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Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times

<h4>CHAPTER XLIV.</h4> In a wide, open field, by the side of the Trent, were erected the lists for a battle at outrance. All the usual preparations had been made--there was a pavilion for the king to keep his state; there were galleries for the ladies; there were tents for the challenger and the challenged; and there were numerous other booths, for the shelter and refreshment of any who might come from far to witness one of the most solemn acts of chivalry. Before the hour of eleven, a great multitude had assembled, and every moment the crowd was increasing; for rumours of strange kinds had not only spread through Nottingham, during the early morning, but had found their way to all the country around about, and every one was eager to see with his own eyes how the whole would end. In all parts of the field men might be seen, each inquiring what the other knew, and, for the most part, each acknowledging his own ignorance of the exact state of the case; although here, as everywhere else, persons were to be found, who pretended to know a great deal of subjects with which they were utterly unacquainted. All that seemed certain was, that the gates of the castle had been shut since the morning, and nobody had been suffered to issue forth, but one or two servants of the King and the Prince, who, after delivering some brief message in the city, had returned immediately, answering no questions, and affording, even accidentally, no information. Two or three people reported, indeed, that a body of some ten or twelve men had entered the castle, coming from the side of Pontefract. They wore no armour, and did not seem soldiers, and, by the appearance of their dress and horses, it was judged that they had travelled all night. Numerous other rumours, indeed, circulated round the lists, and the opinion was generally gaining ground that there would be no combat at all, when this supposition was at once done away by the appearance of heralds and pursuivants on the ground, examining it scrupulously, to ascertain that all was clear and fair, without pitfall, trap for the horse's foot, molehill, or inequality, which could give an undue advantage to one or other of the combatants. Shortly after, these officers were followed by several of the King's pages and attendants, who first busied themselves in putting the pavilion prepared for him into neat and proper order, and then stood talking in the front, making great men of themselves, and fancying that they might be mistaken for some of the royal family. The blast of a trumpet was then heard at a short distance, and, coming at a quick pace, a body of men-at-arms appeared, and took up their station, in military array, at either end of the lists, keeping on the outside of the barriers. A pause of some five minutes ensued, and the people, watching and commenting upon all the arrangements, congratulated themselves on the certainty of seeing two fellow-creatures engage in mortal conflict, and began to speculate upon which would be the victor. Many there present, merely guided by fancy or report, decided upon the chances of the field without ever having seen either of the two competitors. But there were many of the tenantry of Lindwell, and peasantry from the neighbourhood of the Earl of Ashby's castle, who, of course, maintained the honour of their lord, and asserted that he would win the field from any knight in Europe. It was remarked, however, that even their boldest statements regarding their young lord's prowess were coupled with an expression of their conviction that, "howsoever that might be, they were sure enough the young Lord of Monthermer had never killed the old Earl. Why should he?" Hugh de Monthermer, indeed, was not without his partisans amongst the people, for he was well known in that part of the country; and a very general feeling that he was both innocent and injured raised up in his favour that generous spirit which is almost always found, though strangely mingled with prejudices and passions, in the bosom of an Englishman. About half-past eleven, a number of yeomen, dressed in their holiday clothes, mingled with the crowd. They were without bows, but each had his six arrows at his side, and his short sword and buckler. Each, too, had many acquaintances amongst the crowd; and, with others, to whom they did not actually speak, a gay glance of recognition and familiar nod were interchanged as they made their way up to the lists. "What! Miller," said one of the farmers, as a yeoman in the gay green passed him; "why have you brought your arrows with you? There are no butts here!" "There are butts everywhere, Winken," replied the person addressed. "But you have no bow," rejoined the countryman. "Bows wont be wanted, if we need them," answered the yeoman, and passed on. Scarcely was this conversation concluded, when, slowly riding down from the side of Nottingham, was seen a gallant train of gentlemen, and many a fair lady, too, it must be confessed, notwithstanding the bloody nature of the scene about to be performed. "The King!--the King!" shouted many voices; "the King and the Prince! God bless Prince Edward!" But few added the monarch's name to the benediction. All that Henry heard, however, was the shout of gratulation; and fancying himself popular, he bowed gracefully to the people, and rode on to the entrance of the pavilion prepared for him, which was soon filled with the lords and ladies of his court. To the surprise of most there present, the Princess Eleanor was seen upon the King's right hand, and many were the comments made upon her appearing, for the first time, to witness a judicial combat. In the meanwhile, Prince Edward, followed by several heralds in their brilliant tabards, and accompanied by two knights unarmed, rode on to the other end of the lists and entered the field. He himself was clothed in a shining hauberk of steel rings, with a hood of the same, but with his chapel de fer, shield, and lance, borne by esquires on foot. His face was thus completely seen, and it was gay and smiling. His princely carriage--his commanding height--his management of the strong fiery horse that bore him--his frank and noble expression of countenance--all had their effect upon the hearts of the people around; and loud and reiterated shouts of gratulation rent the sky as he rode along the lists. After he had spoken for a few minutes with the heralds and pursuivants, Edward turned to one of the knights who had accompanied him, saying, "Go to the Earl of Ashby's tent, and tell him, he is too weak to fight in this day's field.--The yeoman who first drank of the cup is dead, you say?" "He died very shortly after, my lord," replied the knight, "having scarce time to make confession, and to acknowledge that, when Sir Richard had left the Earl's lodging, he went into the chamber, and finding the cup well-nigh full of wine, drank it off." "It must have been a subtle poison, indeed," rejoined the Prince; "Gadsden tells me it cost him all his skill to save the Earl. But go to him, and say that he is too weak. If he will withdraw the charge, well--if not, let him put off the combat for a week. No dishonour shall follow in either case." The knight rode away, and Edward, turning to the other who had accompanied him, demanded--"They have not found him yet?" "No, my lord," replied the other; "every place was searched in vain. There lay the dead body in the room above. It is that of a man called Dighton. I knew his face at once, having seen him often with Ellerby, and other such scurvy cattle, hanging about London and Westminster." "Sir John has got a short answer," said the Prince, as looking towards a tent at the western corner of the lists he saw the knight he had sent away remounting his horse to return. "I have seldom seen a man so obstinate." In two minutes the messenger was by the Prince's side again. "He will not bear of it, my lord," exclaimed the knight as he rode up; "he declares that men, indeed, would call him coward now, if for a few hours' sickness he should shirk the conflict." "Well, then, it must go on," replied the Prince, looking down; "he may find himself mistaken yet. Go to the other tent, and speak With Sir John Hardy; see what he says." While the knight was absent, the Prince rode round the lists, and approached the spot where Henry and Eleanor were seated. He spoke a few words to each; but as he was about to turn away, Eleanor, whose look displayed some small anxiety, bent her head forward and asked, in a low voice, "Are you quite sure, dear lord?" "I think so," answered the Prince; "but yet I see no one appears. It will never be too late, however, to interpose myself.--The letter said they would be here before the time.--Ha! here comes the challenger!" At the moment that he spoke his eyes were fixed upon the tent or pavilion of the young Earl of Ashby, from which was seen to issue forth a figure clothed in a complete suit of armour--consisting of the hauberk, or shirt of mail, the chausses of mail, and the casque of steel, with a crest and a moving visor, or avantaille of bars. He wore no pourpoint over his armour; and the only thing that distinguished him from the ordinary man at arms were the poylins, or joints of steel plates at the knees and arms of the hauberk, which were the first approximation to the plate armour which soon after came into use. All eyes were turned in that direction, as well as those of the Prince; and every one remarked, that the young Earl leaned, as he walked from the entrance of the tent to his horse's side, upon the arm of Sir Harry Grey, who appeared in the field as his godfather. And as the rumour had become by this time general, that an attempt had been made to poison him on the preceding night, a loud murmur ran amongst the people of--"He's not fit! he's not fit!--Don't let him fight!" But Alured de Ashby put his foot into the stirrup, and mounted his horse with apparent difficulty, but then sat firm and upright in the saddle. "Well, beast," he cried, patting the charger's neck, "thou canst bear the arms that weary me." And moving onward to the other end of the lists, his attendants following with his lance and shield, he saluted the King and Princess as he passed, and bowed his head lowly to the Prince. "This is mere madness, my good lord," said Edward, riding up to his side; "I really feel that, as judge of the field, I cannot let this go on." "I must do my devoir, fair sir," answered Alured de Ashby. "I am neither craven nor recreant; and here I stand in arms to defend my honour." Edward was about to reply; but, at that moment, the knight he had sent to the other pavilion approached at a quick pace, and whispered something in the Prince's ear. "That they are ready for the field!" said Edward, in a tone of amazement. "What may this mean?--well, let the heralds make proclamation, then; and we will part the sun and wind." At a sign from the Prince's truncheon, or warder, the trumpet sounded aloud, and a herald, spurring forward his horse, proclaimed that all persons were to quit the field but the knight challenger and his respondent, the heralds, and officers of arms, the judge of the combat, and his esquires. A momentary bustle and much confusion took place, for a number of persons, upon one pretence or another, were at this time within the lists. But all was soon clear, and Alured de Ashby being placed in the spot adjudged by the heralds to the challenger, braced on his shield, and took his lance in his hand, bearing it perpendicular with the steel in the air, and the other end resting on his foot. An esquire unarmed stood on each side, with two pages behind; and the field being clear, Sir Harry Grey placed a purse of gold in the hands of the principal herald, saying, "That for the good knight's casque." The herald bowed his head, replying, "Largesse! noble sir. Is the combat both of lance and sword?" "That matters not," said Sir Harry Grey; "he pays for the lance, and the lance covers the sword." The herald then spurred forward some twenty steps, followed by his pursuivants, and after a loud flourish of the trumpets, proclaimed that there stood Alured, Earl of Ashby, ready to do battle against Hugh of Monthermer, Lord of Amesbury, on certain charges brought by him, Alured, against the said Hugh, having first made oath, according to the law of arms, that his quarrel was just and righteous, and was ready to wager his body on God's decision. "Now, if the said Hugh of Monthermer," continued the herald, "will maintain that the said charge is false and groundless, and venture his body in that behalf, let him appear before the third sound of the trumpet, or if not, let him surrender himself into the hands of our Lord the King, to be dealt with according to his demerits!--Oyez! oyez! oyez! Let no man, on pain of forfeiture of life or limb, according to the pleasure of the King, give any comfort or encouragement to either the said Alured, Earl of Ashby, or Hugh, Lord of Monthermer, by sign, word, or cry; and let God defend the right!--Sound trumpets!" A long loud call of the trumpet succeeded, and all looks turned towards the other pavilion, before which appeared two horses fully caparisoned, the banner of the house of Monthermer, and several pages and attendants. The pavilions themselves, it must be remarked, were encircled with rails, joining those of the lists, but separated from the actual field of combat by a small movable barricade. Behind the tent, on which every one was now looking, and at the side of it farthest from the royal scaffolding, a good deal of bustle and confusion seemed to be taking place; and the space of time allotted after the first call of the trumpet passed away without any one appearing to answer the challenge. "Sound again!" cried the herald, and again the blast of the trumpet was heard, upon which the hangings of the tent were almost immediately drawn back, and Hugh de Monthermer, armed, but bare headed, advanced towards the barrier. "This is not right," murmured the Prince, when first his eyes fell upon him; but the next instant he saw more. On the right hand of Hugh was Sir John Hardy, and on the left his uncle, the old Earl of Monthermer. Two esquires bore the knight's lance and shield, a page between them carried his helmet; and in this guise the whole party advanced on foot towards the barrier, which was raised to give them admission into the lists. But close behind them came four men, bearing on their shoulders something like a bier, covered with a little tilt and curtains formed of some light cloth. A party of yeomen followed, guarding two men, who walked between them, with their arms tied. Their hoods were turned back, exposing the whole head and face; and, as they advanced, the first of the two prisoners rolled his eyes fiercely round, with a look like that of a maniac; while the second bent his gaze steadfastly upon the ground, and never gave a glance on either side. "Ha! What is this?" exclaimed Alured de Ashby. "What means all this?--Ah! I see now!--'Tis Richard they have got--and the dead body in the bier, most like.--My lord, I guess the rest!" "And so do I," said Edward; "let us ride on and see." Both spurred forward quickly at the same moment, and reached the spot before the royal pavilion, just as Hugh de Monthermer paused there also. "Now, Hugh, now," cried the Prince; "What is all this? But first, my good lord," he continued, extending his hand to the old Earl, "welcome back to your duty, and to England. My lord the King, may not your son promise this gentleman grace and pardon?" It is probable that at any other time Henry would not have yielded without much entreaty; but at this moment he was too eager for explanations to hesitate, and bowing his head, he replied, "Well, be it so.--What now?" "My lord," said Hugh, "I come before your grace to prove my innocence as may seem fit unto your grace to order, either in arms, according to the challenge given, or by still better proof, if so you will." "None can be better, sir," answered the King; "God's own decision must surely be more just than that of men." "Well, sire," replied Hugh de Monthermer, with a smile; "be it as your grace pleases. Alured," he continued, holding out his hand, "if I needs must fight with you, I must; but you will be compelled to seek some other cause than your good father's death. Of that, at least, I am innocent, whatever I be guilty of.--Here is a witness cannot lie.--Draw back the curtains.--Will you believe himself?" Alured de Ashby, already pale, turned for an instant paler still, but it seemed as if the blood had but withdrawn itself into the fountain of the heart to gush forth again, purified, renewed, invigorated. For a moment he was as white as the ashes of an extinguished fire, but the next his cheek glowed, his eyes sparkled, and springing from his horse, with a light bound, as if all sickness were departed, he cast himself upon his knees beside the litter, in which, lying on a soft bed, but partly raised upon his arm, appeared the old Earl of Ashby. The son dewed the father's hand with his tears; then starting up and casting his arms round Hugh de Monthermer, he pressed him to his mailed breast, exclaiming, "I have injured you!--forgive me, my good brother!" Hugh wrung his hand, and said, "This is all joyful, Alured; but there is something painful still behind. There stand the murderers!--the assassin and his tool! My lord the King, into your hands I give them, to be dealt with as in your high judgment you shall deem expedient. The one makes full confession of his crime, the other has not the daring to deny it; and indeed, it would be useless so to do; for, as the very consequences of our sins prove often by God's will their punishments, a poor unhappy girl, whom he seduced from virtue and her peaceful home, overheard in his house the foul conspiracy for murdering this good earl, and charging the crime on me. She told it to those she thought might best prevent it, who came not in time to stop the deed, but soon enough to find the Earl, and staunch the bleeding of his wounds, before life was extinct. She is now ready, though her heart is broke, to give such evidence as leaves no doubt of these men's guilt, even if they still denied it." "Oh, villain!" said Alured de Ashby, gazing on his cousin, who still looked fiercely from under his frowning brows upon him, "Oh, villain! To bring such a stain upon our house!" "Hush, Alured, hush!" said the old Earl, "I will beseech my lord the King to pardon him." "Ay, pardon me! pardon me!" cried Richard do Ashby, darting forward. "King, I saved your son from bondage--I gave him means of flight!--But for me there had been no Evesham--But for me De Montfort had still ruled--but for me you had both been prisoners at this hour." "What say you, Edward?" asked the King. "I beseech you, my lord, pardon him, pardon him," exclaimed Mortimer and Pembroke, in a breath. "My lord, I dare not speak," said Edward, "for though justice calls for the death of the blackest villain I ever did yet know, gratitude ties my tongue. I must not speak." "Untie his hands," cried the King, after a moment's pause. "We give him life, but banish him the realm for ever. If in ten days he be found within the seas, let him be put to death!" "Thanks! my lord, thanks!" exclaimed Richard de Ashby, while the yeomen unwillingly loosed his arms from the cords. As soon as he was free, he passed his cousin and Hugh de Monthermer, as if to cut straight across the lists; but when he had taken two or three steps, he turned and shook his clenched fist at them, crying, "Curses upon ye both!--but the time for vengeance may yet come!--I have not done with you!" Even while he spoke there was a little movement amongst the crowd beyond the barriers; and as he turned again to pursue his way, a loud, clear, powerful voice, which was heard echoing over the whole field, exclaimed, in the English tongue, "This for the heart of the murderous traitor, Richard de Ashby!--Whom kings spare, commons send to judgment!" None saw the man from whom the voice proceeded; but, the moment after, there came a sharp sound, like the twang of bowstring, the whistle of a shaft through the air, and then a dull stroke, such as an arrow makes when it hits a target. A shrill scream, like that of a wounded seabird, burst from the lips of Richard de Ashby, and casting up his arms in the air, as if in the effort to clutch at something for support, he fell back upon the grass. Several persons ran up; but he was dead! The arrow had gone through and through his heart; and between the peacock feathers, that winged it on its way, was found written, "Robin Hood." Almost at the same moment a tall, stout yeoman was seen to mount a white horse, at the other side of the lists, and ride away from the field. He proceeded, at no very quick pace, and, as he went, he hummed lightly to some old, long-forgotten air, "And this is the end of Robin Lythe And his knave Gandelyne." <h4>THE END.</h4> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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